Marciano climbed back to his seat in the stern, gave an order and the paddles pushed sluggishly through the pads, carrying fear and tumult to thousands of little aquatic lives. The next four hours we shall never forget as long as we live. On and on we went through the pitchy darkness, guided solely by the light of the little bow lantern. The bush ropes ahead stood out in sharp silhouette like giant serpents coiled in mid-air across our path. The night seemed to press in on our tiny atom of life. The shadows of the waving arms of the paddlers were thrown on the foliage behind the boat, looking like some huge spider-like thing forever following it. The sheets and drops of water thrown up by the Indians gleamed like molten silver. The open savannas increased in size and extended farther on each side than the shaft of electric light could carry. Great tufts of pampas grass towered high above our heads, drooping gracefully outward in all directions. The channel narrowed and the lily blossoms increased until the water was thickly studded with them. Their odor hung heavy on the air and when one of the blossoms itself was smelled, the perfume was as sweet and as overpowering as chloroform. During the day they had been all but odorless. For miles we pushed through the tangle of water plants; in places the men having to drag and push the boat over the reeds and grasses, crushing scores of spider lilies with the keel. This is the back-water divide between the rivers which flow northward into the Waini and those which flow to the south. During the dry season this route becomes impassable. [Illustration: FIG. 93. MANATEE TAKING IN AIR AND ABOUT TO DIVE.] Later we came to open pond-like spaces and here we found another species of water lily with a smaller flower and a smooth-edged leaf with maroon colored under side. Owls, large moths and bats occasionally flitted across the field of light. It was half-past ten at night when Marciano told us that we were turning into the Morooka River. We were to follow this river down to the very sea, but here it was barely distinguishable as a narrow channel through the grass and reeds. Another hour passed and several dark forms loomed up in the dim light of our lantern, and when we reached them we found that they were boats tied to a rough sort of landing. We climbed out and stumbled sleepily about, getting the cramped feeling out of our bodies. Then when the Indians had tied up the boat and slung our hammock bags over their backs, we followed them up the long avenue of lofty cocoanut palms which stretched down to the water’s edge. We felt our way slowly in the darkness, walking stiffly and uncertainly after the cramped position in which we had been compelled to sit for so many hours.